Don't Try Anything Heroic
by potadd
Summary: When Tabitha is dropped into a real life game of Town of Salem as a member of the town, her first thought isn't to immediately find the mafia members; it's to stay silent and stay away from discussion. And to top it all off: she's a girl who can't make confident decisions. Mix this with the one of the most potent killing roles in the game, and you've got trouble.
1. Chapter 1

"You're a shitty Jailor, you know that?"

I groaned and placed my head in my hands. If only I hadn't chickened out of that execution-if only I had followed through with the plan. I dragged my mouse towards the leave lobby button, and my eyes followed, grazing themselves on the "Mafia wins" sign dipped in mocking crimson.

I leaned back in my chair as I observed my character-the Poisoner skin-keeling over next to two numbers, her legs bent at awkward angles. Then I looked at my elo. Minus one for a town loss. I let loose a sigh of relief. Ranked was so dead at this hour that the whole mafia team was probably in masters. I left the lobby, catching glimpses of white text poking fun at their elo loss and gain. I was just about to check the shop to see if I was anywhere near close enough to buy that house I had been saving up for when-

"You have been chosen to join the Town of Salem Public Test World!"

I squinted my eyes at the new popup on my screen. What? Did they mean the Public Test Realm? I thought anyone could play on that server-it wasn't a closed beta or anything. Although I had never considered playing on a public test realm, I moved my mouse over to the confirm box anyway.

Click.

Nothing really happened. The popup vanished, and I was left with the Town of Salem home screen again. I sighed and shut the lid of my laptop.

My name is Tabitha. My mum picked it on a whim when my gender was revealed-at least, that's what she's been telling me. Everything about me is a contradiction. I choose my actions based on whims— yet I'm afraid of the consequences. Even my hair is a contradiction— it's brown, which is a mixture of the lightest possible hair colour and the darkest hair colour. Picking one thing and one thing only is not an option for me. It never has been.

I sighed as I curled up on my bed. Another day gone. Another day closer to starting school. If only something would happen. If only the days would go by like this forever. I don't know which one to pick.

I soon managed to drift off.

—-

"Welcome to Salem!"

I suddenly jerked awake. Was it morning? No— still dark. I was about to lie back down on my bed, when—

"Oh no, don't go back to sleep! I have to explain the rules of the game to you!"

I snapped my head around, but there was nothing. "Who's there?" I asked cautiously.

"You're being sent to Salem— you know the game? You're bored with your everyday life, right?" The voice continued, as if it never heard me. "We've selected fourteen other players, just for you! Isn't that fun, Tabitha?"

I sat and slowly let the idea settle in my mind. Fun? Killing others didn't sound fun. I slowly shook my head. "No thanks. That sounds awful. Good night, and please don't come back."

The voice was silent for a bit, then spoke up again. "You don't understand. This game needs you, and you need this game. You're the only one who plays this game that can save everyone. So say goodbye to your family for now, because we're sending you to Salem."

"I said no," I mumbled.

"Too bad."

Then my world was flipped upside down, shaken up and down, and rolled all over. It felt sort of like a rollercoaster, except rollercoasters don't happen in your bed.

What was happening?

Who cared… I just wanted to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The sharp tang of freshly cut planks and the musk of dead grass was what jerked me awake that morning. That was the first sign something was amiss.

Then I felt the scratchy surface of what should have been my soft blankets, and the uncomfortably warm clothing I wore—and then I realised that I was not in my room anymore, but instead in a strange wooden shack, with the fireplace, bed, and dining hall all in one room, cooped up together with only about a meter's distance apart—

I immediately jumped off my bed and attempted to locate the closest bathroom. There was a room tucked away in the corner, so small that I nearly missed it. I flung open the door, and it hit the wall next to the fireplace with a wooden _thunk_ , revealing a perfectly clean toilet.

My mouth was raw after throwing up.

I groggily turned and twisted the metallic tap, grateful to hear the gentle murmur of water roll out and gather in the sink. I leaned into the flow of water, savouring its sweet taste, then closed the tap and popped out the plug with a satisfying _fwop_. So the voice was true. I was in Salem. If only I listened to it more...

So much for a "medieval period" game. I briefly wondered who had made this house. I had to do anything to keep my mind off the matter at hand. Although the house's roof was made of straw, it actually seemed to be quite adept at holding heat inside—and keeping the cold outside as well. Or maybe that was how straw worked—

The shrill calling of the rooster cut through my thoughts like a cable snapping, making whatever it was holding plummet to the floor with a loud crash. The loud slamming of doors erupted through the circular space. Girls, men, women, boys—all were united in this very moment of fear. I myself quietly slid open my door, then snicked it shut. I looked around and saw greyed, worn-out people, dressed in yellowed clothing and topped with sagging black caps, their movements slow and groggy. When we were all assembled outside, our feet only just touched the inner circle of the town.

No one dared talk. The stagnant air was far too oppressive.

My heart nearly stopped when the loud booming of an overhead voice sliced through the silence.

"Welcome to the Town of Salem! As you know, all fifteen of you were randomly selected from the playerbase of the titular game itself. Don't bother trying to leave the town-At least, don't bother if you value your life.

"Your goal is to secure a faction win for your faction. To do this, you need to kill all opposing faction members, either by lynching or night time abilities. If you complete this, you and your faction teammates, alive or not, will be allowed to go home alive. However, all losing factions will have their souls trapped in Salem-forever. So don't lose, everyone! Cheers-"

The voice cut off abruptly. My mouth was painfully dry, and even swallowing was a difficult task. I wanted to be in my bed-my real bed. I wanted to hold my soft toys and sleep knowing that I would not meet an early death. Wailing sounded from across the gallows, followed by incoherent blubbering. I was about to slip away myself, my own two legs swaying like thin sticks in a typhoon. I stared into the bright blue sky, wishing that the day would be over, hoping that I'd go to sleep and wake up back in my own home.

In the midst of the chatter, a loud bell tolled, gonging loud and obnoxiously. I directed my attention towards the crooked gallows once again, this time setting my sights on a rather plain, brown-haired man with his hand on the bell.

The man slowly let go of the bell and awkwardly waved. "Well, uh. Hello everyone. My name's Wayne."

The town was as silent as grass on a dry day. Wayne cleared his throat.

"I-um. I think we should all share names. It's better than referring to everyone by their numbers."

The blonde girl with the dopey smile popped up her hand. "I'm Elizabeth, it's nice to meet you all!" Her skirts flounced everywhere as she energetically bounced on her toes like a pink balloon. I guess adrenaline can make you stupid like that. I tried to ignore her and raised my hand. The mafia tend to ignore day one talkers and instead prey on the silent ones, so I figured it'd be a nice way to keep myself alive… for a day or two maybe.

"My name's Tabitha." I said monotonously, trying really hard to make myself sound like I had accepted that I would die the next day. Although talking day one was a great way to ensure your safety for a day, I had a sneaking suspicion it made me sound too over confident that I wasn't going to die, hence making me an immune, and therefore an evil.

We went around the circle and swapped names, some others even giving slight tidbits to their personal lives. I recorded all the names down next to their numbers. In ranked gameplay, it was common for players to keep Notepad open to record down claims and cross off the town alignments as they became confirmed or died, and thus identify the evils by checking if their claim fitted against what rolelist would allow. It was really a bland way to play, and it only properly worked if everyone was claiming a role… but in situations like these, I figured I could work with it, somehow. My pencil (given to us to write our last wills with by the game masters) lifted itself off the page with a satisfying flick as I scrolled down the last name.

Penelope

Samuel

Wayne

Violet

Brian

Elizabeth

Tabitha

Gilbert

Edward

Ruby

Harris

Yolanda

James

Michelle

Stephanie

Wayne looked up from his own notebook and clanged the bell again, signalling for silence through the thick fog of murmurs. It didn't take as long this time for the town to completely die down. The brunette put on his best smile as he addressed everyone-anything to lighten the mood again.

"Today, we are friends. For many, this will be our last day of our day-to-day lives. We should treat everyone in the town today with the same respect we treat other people we cross in our everyday lives. Let us not worry about our alignments, but instead focus on the validity of our friendships, and the genuinity of our respect. Today is not a da…"

His speech was turning out to be incredibly long and boring. I bit my bottom lip out of habit and found it was actually quite dry and painful to the touch. Did they sell chapstick in Salem? Wayne's speech about motivation or something became cotton in my ears as I wondered how to cure dry chapped lips in the thirteenth century. Did they use obscure herbs or something? Maybe rubbed coal all over their faces-

The bell clanged, and everyone began to leave the circle, including Wayne. I exhaled myself into a more loose stance. My eyes met the sky. It was still a streak of baby blue on canvas, with clouds clotting out the golden sunbeams. In the game, the day would immediately end after discussion had finished, but here the day was still young. I guessed I looked pretty stupid as I was wondering about my situation, because I heard the faintest laughter from a group several metres away from me. I bit my lip again-ah, so dry, damn-

"Hey! Tabbie!" The familiar bouncy voice of Elizabeth came bounding towards me. Who on earth was Tabbie? I wanted to look around, but I was scared of the laughter coming back, and I already looked weird enough…

"Ta-bbie! Come on, let's go!" I heard a huff and the gentle tug of my hand. My eyes widened as I caught on and willingly I followed the pull through cobble paths and stone houses, until we reached a small well and a wall of lush, tall trees.

I awkwardly retracted my hand from her grip and faced the ground near Elizabeth's feet. I hoped it was good enough to let her know I was addressing her. "Thanks," I mumbled.

"Really, don't sweat it." I felt her contagious grin even as she turned and walked towards the well. "Help me get some water out-I'm totally parched after that dumb long speech."

Elizabeth dropped the wooden bucket into the well, and I could have sworn I had waited at least ten seconds until I heard a loud splosh sound. We each took turns turning the handle and pulling the bucket up, and as we did the sound of metal and wood argued relentlessly, rattling the earth. Finally, after some time, we managed to pull the bucket out with minimal spillage, the bucket still filled to the brim.

We sat down on the grass, and Elizabeth handed the bucket to me. "Here you go," she said with another one of those grins. "You can have the first sip."

I figured it'd be kind of rude to accept without refusing once. "No-I mean, it's ok… you can have the first drink."

Elizabeth stared at me with raised eyebrows, then shrugged and took a huge gulp of water. Maybe I shouldn't have looked so confused-it was self inflicted after all. She passed the bucket to me, and I took my own sip at last.

"So, how long have you been playing Town of Salem?" she asked, staring at me. I awkwardly tried to gulp down my bubble of water fast enough to answer her. I ended up choking and spluttering around like an idiot instead.

"Well, if ranked's been treating you unfairly for the past couple of years then you could have just said so." Elizabeth buried her face in her knees and sighed. "Not that I'd know a thing or two-I only play on the casual game modes."

"Three… months…" I managed to wheeze out between coughs.

She seemed taken aback. "What? Only three months? Jeez-you're gonna get destroyed here, do you need any help? You could tell me your role and I could help you out."

I tried my best to start breathing normally again, bracing my hand on a knobby tree. "I'm… fine…" I was fine with claiming to the whole town, but claiming privately to an unconfirmed-hell, unclaimed town was suicide. "I'll tell you my role at the start of the next day."

Elizabeth stood silently, and for a second I was worried she would yell at me for being overly cautious. But before I could run, she thrust something towards me. A small, plastic tube.

"Here." She grinned widely at me. "I noticed your lips were chapped. I dunno how it got in my pocket, but here you go."


	3. Chapter 3

The second day finally came about, the sun sighing over cotton-white puffs of clouds and spilling over straw thatched rooftops. I looked around, a pit settling in my stomach, my eyes scanning for a corpse, a body, a clue even.

All I saw were the equally puzzled eyes of my fellow townsmen.

Elizabeth wandered over to me in the midst of all the confusion, a huge shit-eating grin on her face. I tilted my head.

"What's with that look?" I asked.

The petite blonde leaned into my ear. "You see that hottie over there?" Her head turned and nodded towards Samuel. I glared at her angrily. This was supposed to be serious, a life or death sort of thing, and yet here-

I schooled my features into neutrality, like a cat curling itself to push away an annoying dog. Elizabeth continued. "I managed to roleblock him yesterday. Do you know what that means, Tabbie?"

"It means you stopped him from doing whatever he wanted to do last night," I grit out. Then I immediately felt a wave of guilt crash over me-I shouldn't have been so abrupt.

Elizabeth gave a shocked look, and I was about to profusely apologise, but we were both interrupted by a loud demand for silence. We looked up to the source of the noise.

"Town!" cried Wayne, arms outstretched like an eagle's wings. "No one died last night!"

"Yeah, no shit." A heavily accented voice grumbled from my left. I managed to catch hints of husky British before loudmouthed Wayne spoke again.

"So naturally, the town investigative roles need to share results with us," he concluded. This did not settle well with the town, causing an uproar of snappy retorts.

"You just want to reveal the town investigative roles, don't you?" A brash woman's voice sounded out. "No one's going to fall for that!"

I non-chalantly noted down her number and her name- which was apparently Michelle- as a possible town investigative.

Wayne's breath caught in his throat. "B-but with this role list, there's a town protective- you can be protected-"

I saw Michelle grit her teeth. To be fair, Wayne had a pretty solid argument. Now there was no reason for anyone to NOT share their results. I shot a glance at Michelle. Now was a better time than any to share...

To my disbelief, she stayed silent. Guess my reads weren't that great after all. I knitted my brows and crossed her off as a potential town investigative role.

Wayne sighed. "Come on-town, we need to share information! Please-"

"Enough of this."

All attention turned to the British man next to me. Now that I had looked at him clearly, I saw his features in the full. His hair was dark, and he donned a black trenchcoat that seemed far too large for his size. Hell, I'd compare him to the spy skin you could buy with in game coins. All he was missing was a cigar.

At that moment, he could have lowered himself into his high collar, but instead he took his hands out of his pockets and straightened his back.

I suddenly became very aware of my own get-up; my Sherlock Holmes themed clothing. And I was Vigilante, so…

The man-a check of my last will had him down as Gilbert- walked up to the stand to stare down Wayne. "No one will reveal. And you want to know why?"

I desperately wanted to open my mouth at that point- wanted to tell him how idiotic he was for encouraging silence. But the pressure of an audience sealed my lips, and I was forced to watch.

Wayne did not back down, his golden eyes flashing as he stared Gilbert back. "Then tell us why."

I heard a faint snort from Gilbert. "Isn't it obvious? In the game, it didn't matter if we died- it was just a simple slap on the wrist, just another way to confirm a role. But here- dying hurts. No one wants to die. Maybe you feel safe with a town protective on your back, but what about others? There's no guarantee you'll live through an attack, what if the town protectives mess up? So they won't share our findings, because it'll just be giving the mafia an easy target."

Wayne stepped back, unable to respond.

The town went silent for a while, their weaknesses exposed, framed in gold in an art museum for all to see. I clenched my fists- he was right, but damn. What a way to destroy us. If Gilbert was a part of the mafia, he was doing a pretty good job of managing to shut up town. Hell. if we were playing a regular game of Town of Salem, I would have shot him for saying that.

Finally, a small high pitched voice came from the other side of the stand. A girl's voice, to be more exact.

"I'm Violet- and I claim Veteran," she said. "I guess it's ok for me to claim, since I won't be visited after saying this."

A rush of bravery filled my insides. "I'm also town killing," I blurted out. I mean, that guide did tell me to CC all TK claims. Of course, that guide also suggested for me to shoot the Veteran on alert to prove both of us...

Some of the townies grumbled about idiots, while others nodded and applauded our bravery. Oh, perfect. An audience. My face reddened as I mumbled, "I'm the Vigilante."

Wayne instantly brightened up. "Ok! Then Violet-alert. And Tabitha here can shoot you to confirm herself-"

"Holy fuck, Wayne." Gilbert threw up his hands, but said nothing else.

Violet seemed to give a shocked look of betrayal, showing something strange behind those doe-like eyes. But then she slouched her shoulders, and I knew that at that point, she had no qualms with the plan at hand.

A pit formed in my stomach. It was a good tactic, but I didn't- I wasn't ready to die. I briefly wondered if it would hurt.

I heard Gilbert groan again and trudge back down to the front of his house.

I gulped. If town wins, then I get to live again regardless, right? So this... we'd to prove the existence of one random town. It was worth it. Town would win if we did this.

"Ok then, I accept," I replied.

Elizabeth next to me burst into tears, at the loss of a new friend.

"No! I'm not letting you do this, you can't just leave like this!" She clutched at my sleeve, and my heart ached. I at least wanted to play a proper game, instead of dying like this, just to narrow down mafia's claim space. I...

After a hearty lunch, we each set off to our houses. I myself went to Elizabeth's house to say goodbye, do what friends enjoyed doing, just having fun. Then night came, as swift as a raven, blanketing the town in it's silky darkness.

And then I knew I had to do what I needed to do.

The wriggling, mangled wretch stuck in my stomach refused to disappear. I folded up my last will and shoved in my back pocket. It had been hastily written, the points irrelevant and non-linking. My English teacher would have a fit reading it, I'd reckon. I laughed to myself, slipping my gun in my left pouch.

I glanced at the clock. Eleven o' clock. At eleven thirty today, I was destined to die. I wondered how a Veteran killed their visitors, imagined the small brunette firing bullet after bullet into me. I wondered if Violet was okay with all this. Taking the life of someone- even if it wasn't really, truly taking a life...

What was it even like dying?

I pulled a picture of myself drifting above the stand, like wisps of mist, dewy and wet. In the game, many of the dead would yell and scream at the town for being generally an idiot. I shivered at the thought of watching something go completely beyond my reign, being forced to watch town lose.

I twisted my body to look at the clock above my window. Quarter past eleven. The lanterns outside coughed and choked like an old woman, the blocks of light threatening to disappear forever. My gun- at this point- was my only salvation. Perhaps it was the effect of the role-scroll enforcing artificial habits on to me, but I adored the glossy varnish, the bumps and crevices and the cool feel of heavy metal guarding my side. Even though I had no idea what any of the levers and slides did, holding it in my hand had become second nature.

My eyes once again flew back to the clock. Eleven twenty-five. The chair growled and rattled as I stood up. I took a deep breath.

It was going to be all over soon.

This was okay.

It would be oka-

A pain jolted through my head. Next minute, I was on the floor, screaming, clutching at my hair. It hurt- had Violet already killed me? It hurt- It hurts it hurts it hurts-

"You must extremely ballsy to shoot a suspected Veteran on alert. Even if you wanted to do it for the town." A voice chimed, silvery and bell-like. A woman. She continued, her voice- where was it coming from?

"Silly, I'm in your head! It's just plain unlucky for you that there's a Witch in your game."

A cold streak of lightning hurtled down my back, and I knew it wasn't just a side effect of the possession ritual. The tips of my vision burned a dark, fiery purple. I had messed up. Town would lose two town members this night, and Violet would remain unconfirmed.

The voice slithered through my head, spikes digging themselves across every memory. "Anyway, I order you to-" The sound cut off, wavering on their choice of target. I took the chance.

"Why… are you doing this?!" I yelled, but my voice came out thin and quiet, almost mouse-like. And my question was just as stupid as my attempted threat. If I were not stuck in the fetal position, I would have probably slapped a hand across my forehead.

The Witch ignored me. Instead, I heard the drumming of nails on a table, as if she were deep in thought. Finally, she answered.

"Kill that guy for me." A gash of white zapped through my brain. I supposed that was her smiling.

And then all I could see was an ominous slash of purple.

The third day, the town came back the circle, confused at my still alive body. But I was more worried about the damage I had done to town. I scanned the circular space for any dead.

Not a single person had died last night. Meaning the Witch had made me hit a night immune person. Panic rose in my chest. I got lucky this time- but what about the next night?

The girl at the far end raised her hand. "I… was attacked last night," she said, her voice wavering between a sob and what was considered "stable."

Silence attacked the town again. Not even the birds dared to speak. I guess the Witch made me attack Penelope last night. So why she still alive?

"Oh!" Penelope's eyes widened at her sudden suspicion. "I didn't die though, because I was healed!"

Wayne coughed into his sleeve. "I don't mean to sound grim, but uh… Tabitha… You didn't attack the Veteran claim?"

I held my hands up. "I was controlled last night. There was a Witch- they controlled me, I probably shot Penelope. I might shoot one of you next!"

The town collectively gasped.

I exhaled through my nose. "Jailor, take me in tonight. Don't let the Witch get to me."

Wayne shook his head. "Samuel reported being roleblocked- the escort can help you out tonight." His eyes darted towards Elizabeth, then back at me. "The Jailor should be actively jailing at all times."

Right. Elizabeth could roleblock me tonight. I sighed and threw a thankful look towards Elizabeth, who seemed a bit distracted. Maybe it was the fact that we were both women? The idea of a roleblock seemed a bit vague, left ambiguous by the developers to sound as suggestive as it could. I flushed, my face warm as I suddenly remembered my various town members claiming roleblocked... or in more vulgar terms, announcing their s-

Once again, Wayne asked for leads. I found it a bit strange, how he kept asking for leads yet never seemed to reveal his own role. Perhaps this was Jailor- active within town yet staying away from a proper reveal. But he was talking rather loudly... so perhaps not.

Night came once again. I reopened my last will, saw the "heartfelt" comments to town, and groaned. I was so under the influence of death. How utterly embarrassing if the town were to read this. I quickly ripped it off, crumpled it up then burned it in the fire. Enough of that.

At exactly eleven, my head seared with white fire again, threatening to explode into shards. The witch was back. I strained my eyes to the window, looking for a certain blonde haired girl.

She wasn't here yet. Why hadn't she arrived? I fell to the hard floor, the pain taking over faster than before. I could not hold the Witch back- her power had increased at least tenfold from last night.

I bit back tears of anger and frustration. Why hadn't Elizabeth stayed over at her house in the evening? Why wasn't she early? Now town was going to lose, our souls would stay in Salem forever, all because one girl could not visit her at night as agreed.

As a last resort, I feebly moaned, "Elizabeth, help... please..." before my vision became obscured with a dark purple screen.

I had failed the town. I was falling, slipping, dropping away.

Town had lost.

I shut my eyes.

Closed them for good.

"..tha?"

Dulled thumping broke through my stupor. I tried to strain my head upwards, only to be met with another onslaught of daggers, digging deeper into my head.

"Tabitha!"

... A male's voice? And that accent-

"Tabitha- shit, it's okay." My back was pressed into something soft and inviting. I tried to see who was my visitor, but the purple wasn't helping me. All I managed to see was a silhouette.

"Let... go..." My mouth seemed to move on it's own. "I have... kill Gilbert..."

The figure was tight-lipped as the night and refused to respond. Instead, he passed a hand through my hair, massaging my scalp. I winced in pain, my head struck with yet another jolt of the Witch's magic. She was trying her damndest to control me. She needed me to kill.

I opened my mouth again, this time finding my that my own words were going through. "It hurts-"

"Shh, it's okay. Everything will be okay. You will be okay." His hand never left my hair.

This was ok, I thought. I didn't care if it looked like I had been crying now. I felt soothed- calm. This felt right.

"Don't worry- I promise you, town won't lose. This is not your fault. The first person witched didn't say so- there's no way you could have known. It's okay, Tabitha."

I believed those words, those silky smooth words that caressed my head where the Witch had left bleeding wounds.

I drifted away on a carpet of stars that night.


	4. Chapter 4

At last, the third day rolled by. The sky was a suffocating white, with sharp jabs of grey punched into where the sky would normally peek through. I rubbed my eyes wearily and scanned the circle for kills.

There was one.

My eyes widened. The body had been horribly mangled, the remains of a head twisted into something terrifying. I heard a female voice- Yolanda, to be exact- choke and gag.

Out of habit, I stroked my gun at my hip. That was definitely not my kill. I used bullets. This wasn't a mafia kill either for the same reason. So this was...

"WE FOUND HARRIS DEAD IN HER HOME LAST NIGHT." The red sign slashed away the white sky in frustration. "SHE WAS STABBED BY A SERIAL KILLER."

I chewed the inside of my lip. Serial Killer was the most potent neutral killing- if the mafia had been attacking, town would have lost their majority already. But that was not the case here.

"WE FOUND A WILL NEXT TO THEIR BODY."

I saw Gilbert fold his arms as a large piece of paper flashed in front of the red screen.

Harris the Investigator:

N1 - Checked Yolanda: Medium, Retributionist or Janitor

N2 - Checked Elizabeth: Escort, Consort or Transporter

N3 - Checked Michelle:

I pressed my lips together. A town investigative- we had lost a vital role.

"HARRIS'S ROLE WAS INVESTIGATOR."

Elizabeth smugly folded her own arms. "That's right! I'm the escort."

I blinked. Last night, my roleblocker had a male voice. In fact, I only had one visit, and that was from the male escort. So Elizabeth…

Elizabeth hadn't blocked me at all last night.

Gilbert furrowed his brows and shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked like he desperately wanted to say something.

She smiled at me with a huge, stupid grin. "I was on Tabitha all night!"

That wasn't right. The person who visited me last night had a male's voice. I stared at Elizabeth. What was she doing?

Wayne gestured towards me. "And you can confirm this, Tabitha?"

Elizabeth shot right up. "What do you mean, "can she confirm this?" Of course she can! Stop asking such stupid questi-"

"Actually." I rubbed my arm. I needed town to win, and I refused to be someone who withheld information from the town to save themselves, to save their own emotional health. Town depended on me.

So I gave them what they needed.

"My roleblocker was male."

Elizabeth laughed, her voice no longer a symphony of bells, but rather more like the sound of many glass plates shattering. "Stop making things up, Tabbie. Do you see a counterclaim for town support? Are you trying to get in a mislynch?"

All of a sudden, my reasoning looked flawed. Maybe Elizabeth had her own ideas, maybe she was trying to find the Serial Killer instead. I shrunk back. "I… no, I don't. I'm not."

"There are no town support claims because they're too afraid to claim." Gilbert spoke calmly.

Elizabeth ground her teeth together. "Why on earth would the town supports be too afraid to claim? They're just town support! It's not like they're the highest priority for mafia right now anyway- anyone who's too scared to claim town support are cowards."

I could have sworn I saw Gilbert bite his lip and bristle when Elizabeth spat out "cowards."

"You are a consort," he replied. "That's why you don't mind claiming your role in front of the town- because the mafia can't kill you."

"So you believe Tabitha? What if she's a mafioso and she just wants to cause a mislynch?"

"You," he repeated, this time with more certainty, "are a consort."

At that moment, Wayne decided to cut into the argument. "If Elizabeth isn't a member of the mafia then the jailor can execute Tabitha. Simple as that." I jolted at the suggestion, at the way he could disregard someone's life so easily. It made me want to lash out at him.

Wayne then turned to address the town. "Everyone, please vote Elizabeth onto the stand."

At first, the votes came in slow. Wayne then urged the rest of the town to vote faster, then at last-

Elizabeth stood on the stand, the noose around her neck. The crooked stand towered over her, jerking and twisting in the wind, as if her death were a funny joke.

"Please! There are three random towns- I can be escort! Samuel even reported roleblocked," she pleaded. A lump began to form in my throat. I refused to believe it.

No one responded. The moment I had reported that my roleblocker was male, her fate had been sealed.

Her eyes became overcast, like the sky above.

"Fine, I'm the consort. Our Godfather and mafioso- they both don't want to fucking kill. They just sit there, night after night, hoping that a miracle will come," she spat. "In fact, Vigilante revealing in a Witch game was the best thing that could have happened to us. So I didn't roleblock. You're welcome."

Wayne sighed, skimming a hand through his caramel locks. "Guilty this then."

The votes came in and sliced through the sky. Ten to zero in favour of lynching.

"ANY LAST WORDS?"

I heard her breath catch. She pressed her lips together tightly, and yet they still shook. Her eyes- they drifted back down to mine, and for once…

I did not see the sun's shine in her eyes.

"Please!" she suddenly screamed. "Let me live- I don't want to die! I'll become a town role, I'll become an escort-"

I said nothing. I kept looking down, anything to avoid her eyes, those cloudy eyes.

"I didn't ask to be a part of the mafia-"

"MAY GOD HAVE MERCY UPON YOUR SOUL."

The stool was kicked away, and Elizabeth choked, spluttered, kicked away at the air, until she was Elizabeth no more.

"ELIZABETH'S ROLE WAS CONSORT. WE COULD NOT FIND A LAST WILL."

And with that, she had become just another body.

My heart felt strange. I was supposed to be sad at the lost of a dear friend, and yet…

There was a part of me-a strange, dark part of me-that wanted to celebrate the death of a mafia. I blinked. I was so confused-none of it made sense. I should have broke down in tears, should have-should have...

I fell to the floor as the world became cloudy with blackness.

"Welcome to jail, sweetie!"

I woke up with a jolt and promptly slammed my head into a shelf. I rubbed a hand against my head. Since when did I have a shelf above my bed? I growled at it, as if it were a living thing capable of hearing.

"Oh, that shelf?" said the voice. "Yeah, I installed that there in my jail so when everyone wakes up, they'll smack their head on that thing. It's hilarious. I didn't mean to do that to you though."

I squinted my eyes, tried to see past the bars and darkness. Wait… bars? I quickly scanned the room around me and saw straw bedding, grey steel walls, and an ominous figure sitting across me.

"Is this a cell?" I asked woozily. I wondered what that figure had been trying to say to me. I hoped it wasn't much.

"I literally just said-oh forget it." I heard the sound of a slap beyond the bars. "Yes, this is a cell. You were hauled off to your house after you blacked out, so I took the liberty of taking you to jail after."

I curled my legs to my chest. "Well, thanks for jailing me. Although I don't see why you'd want to- the other escort has me covered."

The figure shook their head. "I came to ask you for clues. As in, clues to the Witch's identity."

I bit my lip and scoured through my memories of last night. It was difficult enough already to not cringe at the thought of the Witch, but it was even more difficult to stay completely calm as I remembered my encounter with the male escort. I probably looked like a right mess- hair tousled from the head-holding, eyes red and swollen from the crying, not to mention that I was screaming the whole time… I felt sorry for the male escort for having to babysit me. Honestly-

"Did I… ask something I shouldn't have?" The jailor tilted their head quizzically. "I mean, the escort was male so-"

I waved my hands around in desperation. "No, no! It's fine! Just something dumb on my mind was all!"

I closed my eyes. What did the Witch sound like? I remembered a light, silvery voice, yet it dripped with toxin and maliciousness. Yet the Witch was also afraid of killing, and took a while to pick their target. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"The Witch sounded really insecure about killing, and she had a light voice," i said, then sighed. "Sorry, I know that's not a lot to go on."

A low, hearty laugh echoed around the chamber. "Nah, it's better than nothing."

We sat together in silence for a while after. I shifted a bit around the straw bed, trying to make myself comfortable to no avail. Not even closing my eyes and pretending to be asleep helped me sleep. Thankfully, the Jailor decided to talk again.

"Hey, Tabitha?"

I opened my eyes. "What is it?"

Although I was unable to see the figure's face, I sensed a great deal of distraughtness coming from them. "Do you still… feel like you're the same person?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked warily. Out of habit, my hand reached for my gun, attempting to favour its smooth polish and cool metal to soothe the anxiety welling up in my chest. To my dismay, I found that it wasn't there. The Jailor must have confiscated it, just in case if being jailed didn't prevent a witch attempt.

"Did you always have that habit? Before the game- did you ever try to reach for your gun?" The Jailor pressed.

No. The answer was no, but answering- admitting to it even- felt wrong. My throat bobbed. What was going on? I should have had no attachment to my gun whatsoever, and yet here I was, avoiding denial.

The Jailor started to speak again. "Just yesterday, I jailed someone. When they refused to claim, I…"

My lips pressed together tightly. No one had been executed by the Jailor today, so I could relax. And yet a small tug in my heart demanded that I were to be angry at the Jailor for being so passive.

"I didn't hesitate to pressure them with this." All of a sudden, a barrel was pointed at me, its silver coating glinting in the moonlight. I jolted back, and the Jailor retreated their hand somewhat shamefully.

"Did you… you didn't hesitate?" I got the feeling that was the issue the Jailor was trying to approach. To my horror, they shook their head.

"That's the problem… I felt nothing. I could shoot you right now- as many times as I wanted. And I would probably still feel nothing." The Jailor slouched in their chair and exhaled roughly, as if in anger. "I think our roles… are starting to become us. Us killing roles… we could kill and not feel anything."

Could. The use of "could" meant it wasn't top priority to slaughter a member of the mafia for the Jailor yet, but what about later? I dreaded the day when that "could" became "should," the day it became second nature to take a life.

I was shocked into silence. "That's scary," I mumbled, numb from the revelation.

My hands closed around a fistful of dry straw.

It made me sick.

"There's one more thing you should know," said the Jailor. I didn't bother looking up-I was afraid that if I did, I'd immediately hurl up my dinner. With a slight nod, I signalled them to continue.

"The mafia might start killing soon, if my theory is correct. They'll stop feeling bad about killing and their instincts will kick in. Of course, they ARE an organised crime group, so maybe their instincts won't be as strong as the Serial Killer's." Their gun carelessly tapped against the wooden chair. "But they'll start killing, nonetheless. They'll probably have some wacky instinct about wanting to control the town. So you had best watch out, Tabitha." _Because they know what you are now, and they know what you can do to them._ The Jailor's unspoken words lingered in the air.

I lay back down on the straw, wincing as one stray poked me in the back. My arms neatly folded behind my head, but my stomach still felt unsettled. "Thanks," I replied anyway.

"No problem," the Jailor replied.


	5. Chapter 5

Not much happened in the day. Wayne hopped on the lynch-altar and yelled again about sharing information-but once again, no one said anything worth of value.

I was staring at my tattered ceiling when someone knocked on my door. My blankets hissed as I rolled out of my bed. I opened the door just a crack to check who dared to interrupt my sleep, my hand reaching for my gun which hung casually by my side. I swore silently, and retreated my hand. I had to stop that irritating new habit of mine—

To my surprise, I found Gilbert standing meekly at the door, holding onto his hat for dear life in the crisp autumn wind. Instead of welcoming him inside, I found myself frowning and asking a curt question.

"What are you doing here," I breathed. Puffy clouds of warm air drifted away from my lips as I realised my rudeness. But still, I couldn't help harbour some form of hostility towards him—after all, his speech on day two had caused most of the town to become more silent than usual, not to mention the total shut-down of Wayne's ideals. Gilbert returned an equally cold retort.

"I'm here to ensure the Witch doesn't succeed in controlling you again." _Dipshit_. I winced at the imaginary words that I knew he had debated on saying. Alright, fair enough—I was cold to him, and now he was cold to me.

I paused as the full weight of his sentence suddenly came crashing down on me. My body felt uncomfortably hot as my mind wrapped around what Gilbert had implied. I was still standing at the doorway when he sat down in my chair and began to place his teacakes on my plates—my OWN plates.

"Close the door," he said simply as he placed a fork next to a plate. "It's cold."

I whirled around. "So you're the—the…"

He nodded. "Yes, I am the Escort who roleblocked you on night three."

I refused to believe it. "What about—what about on night four?" I pressed desperately. He couldn't be Escort, and if he wasn't Escort then he wouldn't know where I was last night—

"You were jailed."

I wanted to disappear at that point.

But my face—my betraying, stupid face—was burning a dark crimson, and I knew my features were anything but neutral. I stood out against the brown, woody grains of my house like a sore thumb. I wanted to think that I hadn't been crying during that whole time, but I had probably bawled like a baby who had been separated from their mother for about ten seconds.

"Anyway, I brought some teacakes to distract you tonight." Gilbert motioned over to the other side of my small table, where a small, sliced cake sat invitingly. My stomach growled, and I sat down, avoiding Gilbert's gaze as he casually took off his black leather hat. I slid my own cap off as well.

"Is this how you role block your targets?" I found myself asking as I neatly cut off a heavily frosted piece of cake. I popped it into my mouth and savoured the zesty tang of lemon and sugar.

He shrugged. "I find that I don't really have to do anything special in order to "role block." All I need to do most of the time is talk to my targets, and voila." A sharp clink resounded as his knife cut cleanly through the cake. "They're busy for a whole night. Why do you ask?"

My sigh of relief came out a touch too loudly.

I had remembered how proudly Elizabeth had sounded when she told me she role blocked Samuel. With how enthusiastic she had been, I doubted her night with Samuel had been just a simple supper. "Nothing…" I replied, trying to brush off the matter. "I just thought… since Elizabeth told me how she role blocked Samuel…"

The sweet remains in my mouth suddenly turned a sickly sour. I had brought up Elizabeth—in front of the person who had tried to get her lynched in the first place. I gripped the knife and fork tightly.

"Ah, well—" I saw Gilbert nibble at his bottom lip, and his black eyebrows crashed downwards. "I guess others have their own way of role blocking—not really my taste, to be honest…"

I managed to shove another piece of cake into my mouth. We silently agreed to finish our cakes quietly after that. But after I had gulped down my last piece—

"So, Elizabeth," he murmured.

I winced. "What about her?" I asked slowly.

"Sorry about—that." Gilbert choked on his words and cleared his throat. "I should have been more tactful."

Instead of staying silent, as I should have, I found myself speaking foreign words, so far away and cold. "Her lynching—it was inevitable. Don't feel sorry."

"You don't need to act strong all the time, you know." Gilbert faced me, stared me right in the eyes. "Tell me more about Elizabeth, if you'd like."

I wanted to talk about her, the stupid yet oddly charming things she did, the way she pronounced "egg" like "ee-g" with that drawn out sound. But I was afraid. If I let my tongue roam wild with my feelings, I knew I would not be able to stop. For once, I was glad that my role was Vigilante-had it been anything else… I felt that my feelings would have gotten the best of me.

I met Gilbert's request with silence. So he brought up another topic.

"What screen-name did you go by?" he asked. My head darted back up, then tilted to the side quizzically.

He furrowed his brows again. "Do you not understand what that means-"

"I do! I do!" I waved my hands around profusely. "It's just that… your question was just so casual…" I had thought for sure he was going to ask something more serious.

Gilbert leaned back in his chair and took my lack of an answer as a sign to go first. "I went by 'PeanutBoy.'" I could have sworn a light pinkish tint had begun to spread on his-no, nevermind. I convinced myself that it was the lighting. The lantern placed on the pantry next to him flickered in response, casting uneven shadows over my house.

When he noticed my silence, he grumbled and folded his arms. "I know it's a stupid name."

Yeah, it was pretty stupid. I found myself waving my hands in denial anyway. "It's honestly not-mines worse anyway. I'll write it down for you on your last will so we can add each other after the ga-"

I cut myself off, feeling uncomfortable. Gilbert merely slid his last will out of his pocket, which showed his nightly activities and other notes, and laid it on the table.

I did a double take. "Wait, so you'll actually add me?"

He nodded. "Is there a problem?"

I was already busy scrawling my screen-name down for him. It was a long name, one so intricate that it was almost impossible to spot a mistake once one was made. I had to divert my full attention to the task.

Gilbert stared at my name for a long time, before asking, "So how would I go about pronouncing this?"

Indeed, "fshsodgjoaeega" was a very hard name to both spell and pronounce. I myself hadn't even thought about how to vocalize it, as I had never been in a situation where I would have to try to say it in the first place. "It's better if you don't think about it," I replied hastily.

We spent the rest of that night talking about the game over more slices of cake. I found that he occasionally played Ranked Practice, but tended to stick to Custom games and All Any. After all, he stated that he had never really considered playing Town of Salem to be a serious thing. As for an actual Ranked game… he'd never touched one in his whole career.

The best part was that the Witch never even visited.


	6. Chapter 6

"Listen, town- If the mafia don't want to kill, we're practically safe to reveal!"

I watched Wayne perform his little daily routine again. I yawned— I just wanted to go back to sleep. Maybe if we didn't do anything we'd draw a stalemate. I briefly considered what would happen to our souls if that occured. Would they be trapped in Salem? Or would we all be released? Then again, a draw counted as a loss in the original game— so we'd all end up trapped in Salem anyway. My eyes flit back up to Wayne's stand. A fate worse than death, indeed.

"What are you thinking about?" Gilbert inquired. I laughed and shook my head.

"I was just thinking of a way to let everyone win, but I guess drawing it out is still technically a loss." I looked back at my hands and picked at my too-long nails. "A penny for your thoughts?"

"Currency doesn't exist here," said Gilbert, "but I was just thinking about using my escort skills to try convince the killing roles to stop killing again."

I bit the inside of my cheek. I didn't know what to say. That wasn't going to work. To convince an aged killer to stop killing? Impossible. That was like telling a dog to stop wagging its tail, or like telling the sky to turn purple. It just didn't happen. I'd never stop killing for the sake of others, even if the ones I wanted to protect were telling me— telling me—

"Uh, yeah." I nodded absentmindedly. "Good luck."

Gilbert gave me a quizzical look from the corner of my eye. I didn't bother looking back as I stood up and walked away, my feet shuffling slowly against the gravel. My hand rubbed against the cool metal shell of my holster, and it calmed me, despite my disgust. I wandered away from the pedestal. I didn't care where I went. I just didn't want to be there.

Back at the town's centre, a tall, black haired girl leaned solemnly against the window of her house, her arms folded. She'd been watching Tabitha for a while now, her gaze stern as an eagle. Slowly, she too walked away from the circular pedestal. Wayne, red faced and panting from his yelling, didn't seem to notice. I also almost didn't notice her, if it weren't for the fact that my killer instincts kept me alive and kicking at every waking moment.

I pointed my gun at her.

"Hi," she said, without flinching. She whipped out her own gun and pointed at me. "I'm not really good at duels, sorry."

I grit my teeth. "I thought mafioso were meant to be good at fighting." _Maybe you're a godfather instead?_ I thought.

"Well, you know. Pointing guns at prisoners behind bars is the worst way to get exercise."

I lowered my gun immediately. "S-sorry," I murmured. I just wanted to threaten her— it wasn't like I was actually going to shoot. Was I?

She saw my concerned look and coughed into her fist. "Yikes. I can relate to that reaction."

I tucked my gun away at my side. That same, carefree voice— she was no doubt the same jailor I had met the other night. I desperately wanted to shake hands with her, but she'd just coughed into her hand, so I had to pass for today. Hurriedly, I asked, "Did you get anymore information?"

She handed me a rolled piece of paper. I scrambled to unfold it, which proved difficult as the edges curled in on each other. Slowly, I ran my eyes over the paper.

 _Stephanie the Jailor_

I groaned. I'd forgot to ask her name in the rush of excitement. But it bought me some comfort— it was something I'd do in the real world anyway. It was a remaining part of me.

 _n1- jailed Brian, claimed doctor. asked him to be on Penelope. told him to tell me if anything happened to her_

 _n2- jailed Penelope, claimed bodyguard. asked her to be on Brian_

 _n3- jailed Tabitha, claimed vig. Brian told me Penelope was jailed n2 which confirms him_

 _n4- jailed James, claimed bodyguard. asked him to be on Brian_

I blinked. "So three TP?" I asked.

Stephanie shrugged. "I've seen four in a game once."

"But the chances are so low," I countered.

"I know." Stephanie aggressively smoothed out a stray edge with her thumb. "But I think I'm on to something. I'm thinking the mafia's high elo— that's why they haven't hit anyone yet. They've been trying to lull the town into a false sense of security. And since they're so high elo, it's instinctive for them to choose different claims from different alignments. That's why I don't think these claims are bogus. Well, most of them anyway."

I paused. "So… you think two of these claims are real, and one is false. And if the false one thinks Brian or Penelope is the real jailor, then they'll attack them."

Stephanie nodded. "And the attack won't go through… hopefully."

I loosed a sigh. I tried to clear my thoughts. First of all, Brian could still be a framer, or a non-lethal mafia visiting role. Secondly, the chance of two of these claims being mafia was already too high, considering that there was only one TP slot. Thirdly—

"Aren't you worried that Brian is the fake claim?" I questioned.

"No…" Stephanie mumbled. "He's the only TP here with proof, I have to trust him regardless." She rolled her will back into a tight curl.

I had to bring it up. It was against my morals, however little I had left. "What if a member of the mafia attacks Penelope tonight? James claimed bodyguard, right? He'll just die!"

"That doesn't matter, he'll just come back if we win."

I jabbed my finger at her. "You just threw him under the bus—"

I stopped myself. Lowered my hand and let it hang at my side. My other hand dragged itself over the bricked wall to steady my shaking legs.

"Um, well. A means to an end." Stephanie's voice was bold.

"Okay, well it's alright then." My own own voice came out robotic and forced. Stephanie stared at me for a while, not daring to say anything. Then she lightly tapped my shoulder and walked away.

I stood still. Then I grit my teeth. Then whipped back around. "So how come you're not afraid to reveal to me? I could be mafioso. I could be the godfather. Who's say that I could even be the serial killer?"

"Oh, it's all good." Stephanie twirled on the heel of her foot and let loose a carefree grin that made me shudder. She withdrew her scroll and began to write something on the wall. "'I've revealed myself to Penelope. She dies if I die to any serial killers or any mafiosos.' There."

I watched her toss her hair back and walk away again, her stride loose.

As if she hadn't just gambled her life and countless others.


End file.
